


Bones

by amorekay



Series: Never Shook Our Shadows [5]
Category: Band of Brothers, The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 17:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/pseuds/amorekay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With their spines pressed tight together, Joe’s shoulder blade biting into his skin, Snafu can feel Joe breathe out long and hard. “You were screaming,” he comments, tone sharp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bones

His back pressed solid against Sledgehammer’s, Sledge’s breathing so shallow that he barely feels him moving, can’t quite shake the itch to press a finger to his pulse just to make sure. But Snafu keeps both hands on his weapon, and his ka-bar is right outside their foxhole, just in arm’s reach, ready. And then Sledge shivers, violent, tremors up and down his spine and—

—Joe’s scrambling out of the bed, slamming the door behind him before Snafu even has all four limbs on the ground. He presses his face to the wood and blinks, his eyes still heavy with sleep even as he shifts to his knees. “What the fuck,” he rasps. His throat feels like hell. 

There’s an inch of space between the floorboards and the bed frame, and he can see light from outside the bedroom door on the other side. He rolls onto his back and cusses again, settles in for the wait. 

 

“—the fuck are you sleeping on the floor for?” Snafu flinches awake, skull pounding hard enough to remind him he’s alive again. Joe’s silhouette looms against the shadows, dark on dark. He kicks Snafu in the foot and says, “I’m going to bed.” 

Snafu reaches up and pulls himself back onto the bed, curling on top of the thin sheets as Joe leans into him. With their spines pressed tight together, Joe’s shoulder blade biting into his skin, Snafu can feel Joe breathe out long and hard. “You were screaming,” he comments, tone sharp. “You—”

Snafu shifts away from him, closes up his mind as it starts screaming too, ignores the rest of Joe’s words instead. He can’t remember what he was dreaming, thinks it had something to do with Sledgehammer— with— fuck, and he can’t handle this, can’t take it and rolls out of bed again and hits the ground hard feet first and just keeps going. Joe’s yelling now but he manages to get the door open and to the couch before he’s shaking too much, tries to get his hands to work and tries to find his damn lighter and he can’t. 

Then Joe’s voice breaks through and he’s saying: “—to fucking hell, Shelton.” Snafu coughs out a laugh, and Joe continues, “Are you fucking crazy?” 

“—going asiatic.” Snafu says. He starts to laugh again, and Joe looks like he wants to slam the door in his face but he steps into the living room instead. Snafu gestures at him for a cigarette, and Joe grabs the pack on the table and brings it over, takes one for himself before he hands it to Snafu. 

Snafu looks at him and says, “This buddy of mine. Called me Snafu ‘cause he said I’m jus’ shit done fucked up ready to happen.” He laughs again, and lights his cigarette when Joe passes the lighter. Joe doesn’t comment, and it’s too quiet, the silence crawling against Snafu’s skin and he just wants to keep laughing. Wants— but doesn’t, breathes in smoke and coughs instead. 

They sit and smoke in silence until Snafu feels heavy lidded and half-drowned, exhaustion settling in hard over his bones. Joe drops his cigarette butt into the trash and steps out of Snafu’s line of sight. He doesn’t come back. Snafu closes his eyes and fades out, back propped against the couch, hands clenched tight, the weight of a helmet against his head.


End file.
